Moonlight cannot mold into Sun
by slythani
Summary: There is one mold, and anyone who does not fit it, is against it.  That is the way of the world.  Story of the wicked fairy in Sleeping beauty.


So, another one of my silly little ficlets! Hope you like it! Please R&R! From the point of view of the evil fairy in sleeping beauty.

Moonlight cannot mold into Sun

_All I ever really wanted was to be the same  
Equal treatment never ever comes  
And there they go again  
All I ever really wanted was to be like you  
So perfect  
So worthless  
If I could take it all back think again  
I would_

-'Breathe' by Nickelback

I stand the castle, looking out across the great expanse of rose bushes. No one ever noticed the roses on the bushes. No prince trying to get through would stop to admire the beauty already there. No one ever did. Looking for a distraction from these dangerous thoughts, I look down at my hands and am surprised to see them withered and old. Has that much time really passed? I stare at my cape, which hangs loosely at my shoulders. It is frayed around the edges, and looks as though the hem has come loose. I do not know how to sew.

Being a fairy, I could probably magic it, only I had never bothered to learn that particular spell (it never seemed very useful), and I did not know a single person alive who would be willing to teach me. My home country, Lamara, was a fairy country so maybe … maybe, after this whole thing was over, I would travel back. NO! I reprimand myself. I could never go back. I would need to move on. I would need to go someplace else.

I am brought out of my musing by some idiotic human knight. He looks around suspiciously, and then he catches sight of me. He screams. I roll my eyes at his stupid antics. Wasn't he supposed to be brave? He falls into the bushes. I roll my eyes at him in general. In my defense, he really was idiotic, I mean, couldn't he see the thorns? When he got up, a rose petal fell in his eye. "BLOOD" he cried. "IT IS ALL OVER!" How could he mistake something so beautiful, for gore, and destruction? When he left, or more accurately ran away, I looked down at my own hands once more. How old I feel!

I was once a little girl, despite what you might think. I grew, a girl, with no knowledge of Dark arts, or blood rituals. I was poor, yes, but not poverty stricken. My parents were good, hardworking people. My childhood only had one fault … being a sister. I will not say having a sister … for my family consisted of my parents Ellen, and Henry, their daughter Lillian, and her sister. Not that many people knew my name … but it _was_ Sarah.

I was a dark-haired child, but my skin glowed like the moon. My eyes were a startling green, which, I am told, people can get lost in. My only physical fault was not being born first.

Lillian of the other hand, had golden hair, which shone so brightly in the sun, that it made the indoors look dull. Her skin was a creamy tan, which only further enhanced her golden appearance. Her eyes were a sparkling blue that showed whatever was on her mind.

How could I compete? She had already established what a 'beauty' was supposed to look like. I was so different than her that I had to have been ugly. Besides, let us remember that in this world, there are no shades of grey. There is one mold, and anyone who does not fit it, is against it.

As I have already mentioned, my parents were poor. They had a child in the hopes that the child would be their saving grace in society. They had another child by mistake.

They ignored me, neglected me. At times I would go into the living room, and see them playing with my sister. They would never notice me. I used to stand by the stairs for hours, just watching them interact … watching a family. Once I ventured to speak to them, to the family I never had. I was only 6 at the time, but even now, I remember the shocked looks on their faces, as if they had only just realized they had another child. Of course they saw me at mealtime, but they were so wrapped up in each other that they hardly noticed.

I used to think that there was something wrong with me, that I had _caused_ them to be angry with me, but this was not so. They hardly ever screamed at me … but their cold indifference hurt more than any beating I might have ever received.

"_Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me"_

Whoever said that was an idiot. Words can do a greater harm … they can make you wish to harm yourself. I did exactly that, inadvertently. Of course self preservation was always one of the first things on my mind, but I fear, that in going to the lengths I went for power, some of the 'self' is lost. It is not that I regret it or anything; it is just that, well, if things had gone differently …

When I finally went to school, I was determined to make my parents proud. I was the fastest reader of my year, I could do spells before other children could learn to hold a wand, but still my parents never noticed. What could come of a mistake? No. Lillian was their saving grace, not me. Never me.

Lillian was given the highest education, the best rooms, the most food, the best clothes, the best (and only) birthday presents, yet she still was weaker than me. My parents worked to their bones, trying to give her the best education possible, but it was never enough for her to decide that she should use these gifts. She cut classes, failed tests, and never touched her books. The only way that she passed, was by making me do her homework. I did it, for I did not want my parents to be sad at what an idiotic daughter they had.

All throughout school, life dropped into a monotonous routine. My sister and I would go to school, and my parents would go to work. We would come home from school. Lillian would go out to be with her friends, and I would do her homework. Lillian would come home, retrieve her homework, go in her rooms, and pretend to study. I would go in my room to start my homework. About ½ an hour later, Ellen and Henry (for I had long given up calling them mother and father) came home. Henry would go into Lillian's room and play some game with her, and my mother would start dinner. By the time dinner was ready, Lillian and Henry would be almost done with whatever it is they did in there and I would be finished with my homework. I would just be starting some book on magic. We would eat dinner, and Lillian would tell everyone about her day. The 'family' would stay downstairs to talk, or to play a game, and I would go back upstairs to read. We would go to sleep, and then start the process all over again.

And thus, much of my life went by. My sister had been invited to continue her magical studies in Lynnia, the capital city or Lamara. When she first left, I had been hopeful. Maybe, after all these years, with Lillian gone, they would remember me. My hopes were crushed when they forgot about me even more. I was Lillian's sister, and so without Lillian, I could not exist.

It was then, that something snapped. It could have been my sanity that snapped, or it could have been my hopes or my soul … but whatever it was, it left a gaping hole. The hole did not stay empty for long however, for new emotions took its place.

My work load was considerable lighter, now that I was no longer doing 2 people's homework. I plunged into books. I learned magic as no other fairy had. I learned spell, after spell, light, dark, good, evil, they were all the same to me. What was the difference anyways? Didn't people always say 'too much of a good thing is a bad thing?" Why was it not the same with spells? How could magic be colored to show the hand that would yield it?

At first no one noticed that my 'reading material' was getting darker and darker. No one noticed that some of my books were banned and illegal. And for the first time in my life, I was glad to be ignored.

Lillian came home for the holidays, and was surprised at the changes she saw. She saw what books I was reading, and pronounced me evil. She could not stand how powerful I was. It was the one thing I ever beat her in. She pleaded with me to give it up and to come back to the light side. She did not understand that she was 50 years too late.

I was a young fairy now, at the age of 173. Fairies live much longer than humans do. My skin was still pale from lack of sun, and my hair was a glossy black that made me look quite beautiful. My sister could not stand this as well. She was always pretty … but never beautiful. Other fairies were noticing this too, and I was asked out quite a lot of times. I never said yes though. I needed to concentrate on my studies.

Besides, no one had ever cared before. What could cause them to think of me now? No one would ever care … that is till I met _him_.

Like it? Hate it? Please review! I will try to get the next chapter up soon! If you like this fic could you please check out my fic 'I married him for love" Thanks! Happy summer!


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